


Beautiful and Terrible Things

by Ninni



Category: The Walking Dead, Twd - Fandom
Genre: Cegan, Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, First time!cegan, M/M, Oral Sex, blink and you'll miss it mention of carl/enid, blowjob, carl is seventeen, the walking dead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninni/pseuds/Ninni





	Beautiful and Terrible Things

**Beautiful and Terrible Things**

**  
**

_Carl/Negan_

_  
_

  


“Fuck, you’re _pretty_.”

Carl glares to the floor and hopes his hair covers his reddening cheeks because, _shit_ , he’s blushing beneath Negan’s whiskey-over-broken-glass praise.

“No one ever told you?” Negan’s question is damp against his ear. He smells of leather and blood, and Carl wonders what it is inside of him that _breaks_ ; just like that, and makes him tilt his head up and stare into Negan’s smoothly arrogant face.

Carl wants to snarl at him - something badass and witty as fuck, but Negan’s eyes are too close, too dark: Carl doesn’t have anything to say, nothing at all because Negan’s breath is far too heavy against his lips when he whispers: “I’m telling you now,” Negan’s bearded jaw scratches against Carl’s exposed throat. “Not even my wives wear their hair this long, kid.”

Negan’s long fingers tangles in his hair and Carl wants it to hurt; he wants to be appalled and rebellious and furious, but he isn’t. He allows Negan to tug his head back, like some bitch, and gasps softly against Negan’s face. “Not one of your wives,” he mumbles, his one eye hooded and glaring.

Negan presses him up against the wall now, one strong thigh rubbing against Carl’s hard cock, and Carl wants to swallow the whine that escapes him: it’s a pathetic mewling noise that makes Negan’s face break into a feral, pearly white grin.

“No,” Negan agrees in a low rumble. “None of them makes my cock this hard.”

Carl’s stomach flutters when Negan’s hips press against his, because fuck, he ain’t lying: He’s so hard and straining beneath the denim and Carl can smell the arousal between them, and he realizes: He’s never _wanted_ , not like this, ever before.

The handful times when he’d had his hands down Enid’s panties and made her come on his fingers before she’d wrapped her small hands around his dick and jerked him off until he came soundlessly over her hand with his face buried in her hair had never felt like _this_ : He feels like he’s been set on fire and like he has gasoline pouring in his gut, fueling this furious, raging want with every heartbeat- Negan’s voice alone makes him _dizzyweakandstrong_ , and he knows he shouldn’t _want_ but maybe this – this is how it’s supposed to be.

Maybe this is where the road has led him all along.

Perhaps growing up _too fucking fast_ in a swirl of death and torn out guts created things like him. Maybe it chewed up boys that cried in their mothers’ arms only to spit them out into this world: caused people like _them_ , two fucked up souls tangled up in violence and want.  

Or maybe, Carl is just a fucked in the head kid who wants the cock of a psychopathic serial killer shoved down his throat.

Not that it matters.

Nothing matters, because Carl can’t even remember a time where anything had ever really mattered, and he whispers: “Do it.”

Negan kisses him then, and Carl expects it to be rough and hard, like everything is with him. It isn’t. Negan’s lips are warm and gentle against his mouth. It makes his lips tingle with a barely-there whispered promise of safety and the unexpected softness of the moment has Carl _trembling_ as he clings to Negan, opening his mouth for him.

When they part, Negan drags his thumb along Carl’s cheekbone: He wipes a tear away, a tear Carl doesn’t remember crying. “You scare the shit out of me,” Negan tells him softly, his eyes falling shut. “Where the fuck did you come from, kid?”

Carl realizes: He could kill him now. He could, and it would be easy. Carl still had his knife, and Lucille was resting in an armchair far from where they are tangled together up against the wall, Negan’s eyes are closed, and it would take Carl less than a second to shove the knife into his gut – he could revenge Glen and Abraham, just like that.

The thing is, revenge is that last thing Carl wants right now.

Instead, he drops to his knees.

His hat is already off, long forgotten on the floor. He tilts his head and looks up at Negan who watches him now under silence, his gaze dark and full of wonder. Carl’s hands are shaking when he starts to remove the bandages, slowly, not breaking their locked gazes.

It’s scary as _fuck_.

Carl hates exposing his disgusting socket because he feels like it’s a window to what he looks like on the inside – a window that bares an ugly emptiness that’s worthy of nothing. He hesitates, but only briefly: Negan’s fingers curl gently around his wrist; a silent support that means _way too much_ , as Carl removes the last bit of bandage and leaves his face like he hates it: Bare and vulnerable.

_Ugly as fuck_.

Carl swallows as Negan gently pushes his hair out of his face. “You didn’t have to,” Negan tells him after a second. “I know you don’t like it.”

“I know you do,” Carl says. “I just. I just don’t know why.”

Negan swears above him, a low snarl, and Carl blinks. “It reminds me that you’ve seen too much. And that now, you don’t have to see as much of this shitty world. Not much to see, anyway.”

Carl swallows as his hands grip Negan’s thighs. “I see you,” he whispers. He hopes Negan can’t tell how badly his hands are trembling.

Negan undoes his belt buckle, slowly, eyes never leaving Carl’s. “You sure what you’re asking for, kid?” he says, his mouth shiny.

From _his_ spit, Carl realizes, and his dick twitches. _He made Negan’s mouth gleam like that._

Carl looks up at Negan. He swallows. “I’m asking for your cock.”

“The fucking mouth on you,” Negan growls, his cock is suddenly there: Heavy and glistening, right in Carl’s face.

Carl stares, his mouth waters, and the shame is thick in his chest when he rasps: “Never done this before.”

Negan’s fingers are warm against his scalp. “I’ll come all over your pretty empty socket if you keep talking like that, kiddo. Just open your fucking mouth.”

Carl does. Negan’s cock is thick and salty on his tongue and he _wants_ it: he swallows the length down his throat and chokes on it because it too fucking big, and suddenly Negan’s fingers are back on his face, curling around his jaw.

“Easy,” Negan tells him hoarsely. “Slow.”

Carl glares up at him, feels defiance and want and _rage_ rise in his gut and he pins Negan’s hips to the wall and does it again: He swallows the thick, long length down his throat, whines around it _; Negan grunts at the noise_ , and then he relaxes his throat.

Carl feels used and disgusting, of course he does: Negan’s cock is salty and heavy and shoved down his throat but _fuck_ if it doesn’t make him feel so damn _safe_.

Negan grunts above him; filthy and horrible things that make Carl’s cock weep in his pants and he doesn’t know if it’s tears or come he tastes at the back of his throat when Negan’s fingers curl around his throat and he feels the salty tip of his cock spasm over the back of his tongue: he swallows, everything; every last drop he’s offered.

The softening cock slips from Carl’s lips and Negan throws his head back and he _laughs_.

“ _You_ ,” Negan tells him, “You are something fucking else, boy.”

Carl licks his lips. “What am I?”

Negan tugs him to his feet, by his collar, and whispers against his temple - far too close to the empty socket: “I don’t fucking know, Carl. That’s what terrifies me.”

   

 


End file.
